smiled at his remembrance of Anne’s squeal of delight when he had bought it for her.
“A bit of fresh gilt, my lord,” Orva assured him, “and ’twill be fine.”
“My daughter should have a real gold caul, and some bits of good jewelry,” the earl noted. “I will see to it.”
“Remember, my lord, she is still a little girl. Perhaps a strand of pearls, and two or three rings. As she grows older you will gift her,” Orva advised.
Several days later Robert Bowen brought his daughter a beautiful long strand of pearls, several gold rings decorated with brightly colored gemstones or pearls, a fine golden caul, and a gold headband with an oval piece of green malachite in its center. And when another week had passed he arrived with a beautiful dappled gray mare with a black mane and tail for Cicely, and a sturdy chestnut gelding for Orva.
The weeks flew by, and then it was Midsummer’s eve. There was dancing, and there were games, drinking of sweet honeyed mead, and bonfires on the hillsides. In just a few more days Lady Cicely Bowen would be leaving her childhood home to be fostered by the widowed Queen Joan. The new king, rumor had it, was preparing for war against France. It would be an exciting time to be at court.
On the morning before her departure Cicely slipped from the cottage. Orva was busy finishing the packing, and would not consider where her little mistress had gone; nor would she worry about it, for Cicely was completely safe on Leighton lands. Walking across the fields Cicely made her way to her father’s gardens, and secreted herself within a large hedge. And then the three nursemaids came, bringing with them her three little half brothers. She watched them silently, smiling at the antics of the two elder, wishing she might be allowed to play with them. Charles looked like their father, she was happy to see. The other two favored both their parents. Finally she could sit no longer.
“Farewell, little brothers,” she whispered softly. “I doubt we will ever meet again. May God and his blessed Mother protect you all. Bring honor to Leighton.” Then Lady Cicely Bowen crept quietly from her father’s gardens, making her way back across the fields to the cottage where she had spent all of her life.
“Where were you?” Orva asked her when she entered.
“Out walking, and saying my farewells to Leighton,” the little girl answered. “I still wish we didn’t have to go. Oh, I know the great advantage this is for me, for my family, but I should have been content to remain here forever.”
Orva sighed. “I know,” she sympathized. “This has been my home for all my life too, and now I wonder if I will ever see it again, my little lady.” She sighed again but then said, “Still, it is a great adventure we are about to embark upon. It could be worse. Your father’s wife could have convinced him to put you in a convent for the rest of your days.”
“I would have made a very bad nun,” Cicely said, giggling.
“So would I,” Orva agreed with a chuckle.
“Do you think my father will come to say good-bye, Orva?” Cicely wondered.
“Did he not tell you, child? Oh! Perhaps he meant for it to be
a surprise,” the serving woman said. “Your father is to escort us to Havering-atte-Bower.”
Cicely clapped her small hands together with delight. “Ohh, we shall have time together before he leaves me. I am so glad!” She danced about the room.
Orva smiled to see the child happy. This sudden change in Cicely’s life was a difficult one to make for a child so young. Orva prayed silently that all would be well, and that her little mistress would be happy in Queen Joan’s household. She hoped the earl’s daughter would find a friend among the other little maidens certain to be there. She slept restlessly that night—the last night in the cottage she considered her home. The earl had assured her the cottage would be there for her when Cicely was grown and no longer needed her. It was
“A bit of fresh gilt, my lord,” Orva assured him, “and ’twill be fine.”
“My daughter should have a real gold caul, and some bits of good jewelry,” the earl noted. “I will see to it.”
“Remember, my lord, she is still a little girl. Perhaps a strand of pearls, and two or three rings. As she grows older you will gift her,” Orva advised.
Several days later Robert Bowen brought his daughter a beautiful long strand of pearls, several gold rings decorated with brightly colored gemstones or pearls, a fine golden caul, and a gold headband with an oval piece of green malachite in its center. And when another week had passed he arrived with a beautiful dappled gray mare with a black mane and tail for Cicely, and a sturdy chestnut gelding for Orva.
The weeks flew by, and then it was Midsummer’s eve. There was dancing, and there were games, drinking of sweet honeyed mead, and bonfires on the hillsides. In just a few more days Lady Cicely Bowen would be leaving her childhood home to be fostered by the widowed Queen Joan. The new king, rumor had it, was preparing for war against France. It would be an exciting time to be at court.
On the morning before her departure Cicely slipped from the cottage. Orva was busy finishing the packing, and would not consider where her little mistress had gone; nor would she worry about it, for Cicely was completely safe on Leighton lands. Walking across the fields Cicely made her way to her father’s gardens, and secreted herself within a large hedge. And then the three nursemaids came, bringing with them her three little half brothers. She watched them silently, smiling at the antics of the two elder, wishing she might be allowed to play with them. Charles looked like their father, she was happy to see. The other two favored both their parents. Finally she could sit no longer.
“Farewell, little brothers,” she whispered softly. “I doubt we will ever meet again. May God and his blessed Mother protect you all. Bring honor to Leighton.” Then Lady Cicely Bowen crept quietly from her father’s gardens, making her way back across the fields to the cottage where she had spent all of her life.
“Where were you?” Orva asked her when she entered.
“Out walking, and saying my farewells to Leighton,” the little girl answered. “I still wish we didn’t have to go. Oh, I know the great advantage this is for me, for my family, but I should have been content to remain here forever.”
Orva sighed. “I know,” she sympathized. “This has been my home for all my life too, and now I wonder if I will ever see it again, my little lady.” She sighed again but then said, “Still, it is a great adventure we are about to embark upon. It could be worse. Your father’s wife could have convinced him to put you in a convent for the rest of your days.”
“I would have made a very bad nun,” Cicely said, giggling.
“So would I,” Orva agreed with a chuckle.
“Do you think my father will come to say good-bye, Orva?” Cicely wondered.
“Did he not tell you, child? Oh! Perhaps he meant for it to be
a surprise,” the serving woman said. “Your father is to escort us to Havering-atte-Bower.”
Cicely clapped her small hands together with delight. “Ohh, we shall have time together before he leaves me. I am so glad!” She danced about the room.
Orva smiled to see the child happy. This sudden change in Cicely’s life was a difficult one to make for a child so young. Orva prayed silently that all would be well, and that her little mistress would be happy in Queen Joan’s household. She hoped the earl’s daughter would find a friend among the other little maidens certain to be there. She slept restlessly that night—the last night in the cottage she considered her home. The earl had assured her the cottage would be there for her when Cicely was grown and no longer needed her. It was
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